At first it's just background, white noise of the day. But if you listen closely, it breaks down into a symphony: distant highway hum — that's the bass, overlapping signals — the accents, someone's laughter from an open window — the live, warm note. This ain't just noise pollution. This is proof of life. Her endless stream, where you're both part of it and a witness. This hum lulls, reminds you that you're not alone, even in your deepest silence. Can you hear your own melody in this city noise, or is it always a foreign choir to you?